


A 'proposal'

by sangster007



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Anesthesia, Drama, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangster007/pseuds/sangster007
Summary: Max had had a minor operation and was still recovering from the anesthetic when Charles visited him in the hospital.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	A 'proposal'

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [一次“求婚”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610461) by [sangster007](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangster007/pseuds/sangster007). 



> This work is my inspiration after watching a video. In that video, a young girl still reeling from the effects of the anesthetic proposed to the nurse. Very lovely plot.So I also wanted to write about Max, who had a minor operation and proposed to Charles in a state of confusion.Sorry again for my poor English writing.I hope you enjoyed this article.

When Charles Leclerc showed up at a London hospital with a bunch of Cherry Parfait, all the journalists gathered outside recorded the moment on cameras of various sizes. With his dark glasses, baggy T-shirt and trousers, he looked as handsome as some pop star with a minor reputation. He did not wear a flame-red racing suit, but anyone who knew anything about Formula One could recognise him as Ferrari's driver, a rising star in the paddock. Journalists would have plenty to write about: was Charles Leclerc's visit to his rival, the Dutchman, a gesture of sincere kindness or an affront?  
Charles met Lando and Ricciardo at the elevator. He pulled the glasses down his nose to reveal his boyish green eyes. "Hi." Ricciardo gave him his trademark grin and a warm embrace. Charles had to slap him on the waist symbolically because of the flowers in his hands. Curious to pick up his flowers, Lando was nose-poked and sneezed for a couple of times by the Gypsophila.  
Ricciardo immediately turned his attention away from him and turned to his Cherry Parfait. "Pink roses? Sweetheart, you are so romantic." Charles was trying to correct him, Ricciardo quickly added, "You don't look like you're here to see a patient, you look like you're here to date." He winked his left eye at him and vaguely bit his lower lip. And Lando was already gasping with laughter beside him. God knows how low the kid's funny point really is.  
Charles was at a loss for words, not knowing where to begin. After a long pause he untied his knotted head and tongue. "It's not a rose, it's the Cherry Parfait."  
Ricciardo nodded gravely. "It looks beautiful anyway, and you do look like you're on a date."  
Lando seemed uninterested in the ambiguous relationship between his two friends. He tilted his head and tried to approach the bouquet again without hurting his airway. "I've heard of this flower. It comes from Monaco. So where did you get it? Have you been home yet?"  
After the game, to now, less than 24 hours.Charles certainly could not have flown back to Monaco and back again. But he would never admit that he had asked a friend to airmail it for him. He touched his nose and reddened at his next lie: "My friend came to see me, brought me from Monaco."  
Ricciardo shrugged. "It doesn't matter. And neither would that idiot Max."  
Charles echoed in his mind: Yes, Max is an idiot. 

*

Max, who had been called an idiot for no reason, was lying on his bed, clutching the hand of Red Bull manager Horner. The nurse managed to keep up with the movement of his brain. In unison, people huddled in corners, holding up their mobile phones and looking as if they were trying to curb their irrepressible smiles. This was what Charles and others saw when they entered the room. He followed Ricciardo slightly sheepishly into the room and found a place behind the monitor at Max's bedside.  
"My God, what happened?" And Lando, with a watery eye, seemed ready to cry next.  
Horner had blue veins bulging out of his forehead. "Stop your imagination, boy. He's just under anesthesia."  
Max saw Ricciardo sitting in a moving chair. He reached out and tried to grab Ricciardo by the collar, but failed as the Australian's dexterity eluded him. "Hey Max, what are you up to?"  
Max slumped on his pillow and looked up at him. "Have you seen my boyfriend?"  
The Australian paused for a moment, then jokingly pointed at Charles. "You mean him?"  
The Dutchman followed his finger to see Charles. In that moment, Lando swore he saw Max's eyes light up like the streetlamps in Britain that come to work on time. Max reached over his head and grabbed Charles's arm.  
The nurse reminded him, "He'd better not make such a big gesture." He gave up his place to Charles and pushed him as close to Max as he could. Charles leaned back in horror, only to find himself chained to Max's hospital bed. The nurse moved a stool for him. Oh, that's so damn sweet.  
As he sat awkwardly, Max looked at him affectionately, giving Charles goose bumps all over. Max took his hand and said to him in a sickening voice, "You're here at last."  
Charles gave Ricciardo a look that said, "I want to die but I will kill you before I die," but he kept smiling. Trying to resist the urge to lose his temper with the patient, he said to Max in the gentler voice he could now say, "Hello, Max. Here I come."  
Max straightened his neck to look at the bunch of flowers in his arms, but within ten seconds he was back on the pillow. "Oh, my head is so dizzy, I can't see anything clearly. I want to go home." And he screwed up his face piteously, as if he were about to cry.  
Lando escaped with a laugh, and his cellphone, which was recording a video, wobbled sharply. (Soon enough, many in the driver's squad would appreciate and criticize the parkinson-like video.) Max looked warily in his direction. "What are you laughing at?" he mumbled.  
Too exhausted to speak, Lando shook his hand. Max was about to get out of bed and hit him, but Charles stopped him. He took his hand and said soothingly, "Nothing, really nothing."  
"Oh." Max wrinkled his face again, and Charles thought he looked like a miserable little pig. "What's that in your arms? Is it for me?" Max's face seemed to tell him that if he dared to say no, he would flood the room with tears the next second.  
“Yes, of course!” Charles repeatedly replied, “This is the Cherry Parfait, remember? It's on the windowsill of almost every house in Monaco."  
"Oh." Max looked at him, his mouth pursed into a sweet smile. "Did you take that off the balcony at home?"  
"Well," Charles knew he couldn't take a patient in remission seriously, "sort of."  
“Are we married?”Max's eyes were sparkling, obviously expecting him to continue to say yes.  
Charles froze. Lando burst out of the ward and burst into a burst of laughter. Charles gritted his teeth to resist the urge to beat someone in the room, smiled and asked, "Why?"  
"Aren't they from the balcony of our house?” Max's expression was a little confused, almost back to the pathetic state he had been in at the beginning.  
...  
Max couldn't wait for an answer, so he just kept talking. He said more today than he had said in the paddock in a year. "So are we living together?"  
"... No." That's true. Charles vowed that he could not fool a patient in a state of confusion whose IQ might be as young as ten just to save himself some trouble.  
"Then I think it's time for us to move in together." Max put his hand to his lips and kissed it, before Charles knew it. He thought he was going to faint, but luckily they were in the hospital, and when the drama was over he could go downstairs and have an emergency. "Will you?" Max asked eagerly.  
Charles shook his heavy head, feeling suffocated in the air-conditioned room at 25℃.  
“Why?” Max shook his hand. "I love you so much and you love me too, why don't we live together? Or do you want us to live together after you get married?"  
Charles replied perfunctorily, "Yes, I think it would be better to live together after getting married." He doesn't have a subject. That's not cheating. He stuck to his principles, and yes, that's it.  
"Let's get married then." Max pursed his lips at him, as if waiting for his permission to kiss him. Charles panicked and could hardly keep a smile on his face.  
“Why do you want to marry him?” Ricciardo, laughing enough, began to rescue Charles from his plight. Even though he was the culprit, Charles couldn't help but give him a look of thanks from the bottom of his heart.  
"Oh." Max smiled and affectionately told Charles, "you're so beautiful, I love you. I want to wake up with seeing your eyes every day."  
Before Charles could react, Max was planning their wedding and marriage with enthusiasm: "I'll take you to the Netherlands, we'll get married on the grass, and everyone will bless us because we're such a good match! I'll wear a gray striped suit. No, how about sapphire blue? Grey is still too dull. I need to change apartments in Monaco, or our kids won't be able to fit in. A boy, a girl, they need their own space..."  
Charles nodded to himself. "Sounds good."  
Horner nodded apologetically across from him and mouthed, "He's almost in a dream," he said. "He'll be fine when the medicine wears off."  
Charles wondered bitterly if Max would remember the memory when he woke up, wondering how he felt about coming out in front of his old enemy. But then Max's words diverged from what he had expected:  
"We'll be one of the most enviable couples in the paddock. I love you, you love me too, so we're getting married. I'll love you super super, I swear. I will buy you the most beautiful ring, you must wear it, I will wear it, when we get in the car, when we get on the podium."  
Wait, there seemed to be something wrong.  
"I love you so much, Leclerc. But why didn't you promise to marry me?”  
...  
What? God. Was there something wrong with his ears?  
Ricciardo, his smile frozen at the corners of his mouth, carefully accosted Max. "But Leclerc isn't even your boyfriend."  
"No --" Max let out a cry of frustration. "He loves me, he just loves me. We're getting married soon."  
Charles felt compelled to take action to defend his reputation, having abandoned all principles of patient insensitivity. "Listen, Max --"  
Max threw his hands away, covered his eyes with his forearms, and began to cry loudly.  
Horner looked him in the eye with even a hint of pity in the pleading. Charles stood up, not knowing what to do.  
The drama ended with the nurse clearing them all off the stage. 

*

Two days later, Max was out of the hospital.  
Charles had already flown back to Monaco. He sat on the balcony of his apartment, watched the sun sink into the horizon, and took a nice sip of his espresso. The phone vibrated twice on the table and he picked it up. It showed a text message from Max: "Hi, can we talk?"  
He almost spilled coffee on his shirt when he saw it. Before he could make a decision, the next text came in: "I'm downstairs."  
The coffee really did spill this time. As he looked at his discarded shirt, Charles grew angry and rushed to the railing to find the source of all the chaos in his life. He saw Max standing across the street next to the Cherry Parfait planting and looked up at him.  
He looked at him, and there was a smile on his lips, not the usual lofty smile, but a smile of genuine joy, just as Charles had seen it on the face of confused Max, who said he loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for watching.


End file.
